As I do way too often, and for way too long, I troll Facebook. When I came upon this video shared by a couple of my mom friends, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. It’s real, it’s a wicked awesome reminder, and I feel she is a kindred spirit with her snacking habits. Enjoy!
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I know people who decorate their Christmas trees with new, color-coordinated themes every year. I know people who special-order pine boughs to adorn their mantles and banisters, and then have someone come in to deck the halls for them. If that’s how they roll for Christmas, more power to them. I’m sure their homes look beautiful. The tradition in our family? It isn’t Christmas unless the vintage manger scene includes a glitter ball snowman and the Star Trek ornaments share boughs with Lenox crystal reindeer. That’s how we roll. I am a perfectionist desperately trying to adopt the mantra, “perfection is overrated.” And…
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For some, it’s time in the bathroom. For others, it’s that dream that awakens them at night. For me, it’s driving. Many times my inspiration for new posts comes while behind the wheel, a narrative forming as I go for groceries or take my kids to activities. I liken it to a meditative state. So you probably shouldn’t be on the road with my Honda Odyssey (JK). I wish I had a hands-free, voice-activated recorder so I could save the thoughts as they come, because when I sit down at my computer I can’t articulate those thoughts nearly as well. But…
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This is a Christmas Story. Not the Biblical one, not the one with the adorable, bespectacled boy who pines for a Red Ryder BB gun. Still, it’s a Christmas story, but a different one. In a town near where I grew up, a girl was given shelter. But that’s about it. She went hungry under that roof, having to beg the neighbors and her classmates for food. She stole a pair of shoes and was caught doing it. Her explanation for her actions was “Because I don’t have any.” She carried a foul, unclean odor with her. Surely she suffered…
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It’s that time of year. The time of year many of us buy the more presents than for any other occasion. Christmas is almost here. I used to worry about lopsided Christmas spending on my kids, especially the year my son wanted a lego set and his twin brother wanted a simple plastic lap desk he saw at a craft store. It didn’t take long to realize cost mattered little to my kids but value did; they were elated to receive the coveted items picked from their wish list. Once I shifted my thinking, gift-giving became more enjoyable but the…
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I just realized with all the bams I’m starting to sound like my son’s culinary idol, Emeril Lagasse. But strangely it fits, as recently I learned my pot-stirring helped cook up something rather surprising. Thank you, our pediatrician said. Thank you? She had called because that afternoon my shot-fearful son was scheduled to get not one, but two vaccines. I was confused by her words. Thank you? For the mayhem of our last visit? For my son’s terrified sprint out the medical building and my cage-rattling for how the office handled (or failed to handle) my son’s intense vaccine phobia? After…
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Our Thanksgiving adventure began before we even left the house. The night before we were to leave we learned our flight would be delayed by four hours. When that time was extended to seven, we knew we would have an unexpected overnight in Denver. As fate would have it, this layover became the fall getaway we never had time to take. We got to stay in a hotel with our kids, no obligations until the next morning, and an evening full of fun (restaurant food! pool time!) awaited us, all expenses paid by the airline. We completely underestimated the accommodations…
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I don’t get it. How did we miss this when we bought our house? More importantly, how did the home inspector miss it? There are no floors in my kids’ bedrooms. Ok, that’s not entirely true. One of my boys does have a bedroom floor…and it’s carpeted! However, his closet floor is lost beneath a teetering mountain of camping gear, books on pet care, and remote control cars. But my daughter and older son…nope, no floors. My daughter’s room is Party Central, and everything from clothes to dolls to crafts cavort in a happy, wild mix. It’s like her closet…
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Well. What a week. I had another topic to post but given the historic nature of last Tuesday, it just didn’t seem natural to go ahead like nothing has happened. None of us is untouched by the events of the last week, and many of us are feeling mentally and emotionally tapped. But I promise you that this post is not politically charged; it’s not my purpose to use pulseonparenting to spread propaganda. My site is intended for every parent, left- or right-wing. It is meant for mothers and fathers and guardians, stay-at-home parents and parents who have careers outside…
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Guess my husband and I have been paying our kids sweatshop wages. It’s not intentional, but with three kids, weekly allowance is a noticeable expense. And right now, my husband and I do pay for all their needs. So how much money do kids really need in their wallets? More than we are paying out. There are definite clues the amount of money we provide is not enough. For example, their birthday “windfall” is so scorching hot it doesn’t have a chance to burn holes in their pockets; they spend it that fast. And my son wants an…
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Hi, Diana! So good to hear from you. Thank you for your support:) This blog is my fourth baby and…